


Blood Ties

by smilodonna



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: (very briefly mentioned) - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, mention of vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilodonna/pseuds/smilodonna
Summary: Zilpha wakes up in the night and decides to go and talk to her brother. This decision turns out to change a few people's stories radically.
Relationships: Zilpha Geary & Winter, background-ish Zilpha Geary/James Delaney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted both Zilpha and Winter to live. So I wrote this.  
> My first fanfic that passes the Bechdel test. It's embarrassing, really.

Zilpha couldn‘t have said what had woken her up in the middle of the night. But there she was, staring into the pitch black night with her eyes wide open, yet seeing nothing, understanding nothing. Slowly, anger started to rise inside her. She was so tired, and every night it was getting worse. There had been the time when James had kept visiting her in her dreams, and she would have woken up out of breath and desperate, barely able to keep quiet enough to not wake her husband by her side. Those times were gone, though. Her husband was no longer there, and James had thrown her aside like a broken toy. His storming away after he had half strangled her in a fit of madness had felt final to her. She thought she probably understood his motivation, which didn‘t make it any less wrong in her eyes. Or much less hurtful.  
Be that as it may, she still woke up seemingly of her own accord every night from a dreamless sleep. Which of course didn‘t mean her witch brother had nothing to do with it. Nor that she would find back to sleep any sooner than after the feverish half-dreams of the past. Perhaps the most annoying thing was that she actually missed James‘ presence. And she felt trapped, no matter if he bothered her every night or if he ignored her, as he did now. She had thought she would be free once she got rid of her husband. So she had murdered him, mercilessly, and she still felt no remorse for that. But it hadn‘t freed her.  
It had freed her thoughts, though, to a certain degree. With the effect that she could see much more clearly now where she was still trapped, restricted, caged. She had been so naive before. Although even when she had been much younger, before James had left her with their malevolent father, she had sometimes heard people call her „mature beyond her years“, with quite a dose of suspicion and even disgust in their voices (if they hadn‘t used the word „savage“, like they did most of the time). Still she had been naive all her life.  
As a girl, she had tried to live as if conventions had no effect on her. A „beautiful beast“ James had called her. And then he had gone away, and the harsh reality had caught up with her. She had endured her father‘s brutality and unpredictability, and then she had let Thorne tame her. Shame and submission had become familiar companions, and where before she had taken pride in being different than the rest, the new source of her pride was being just another modest and obedient wife. For proud she had still been, and hopeful, deep down inside.  
James‘ return had been a shock. It had brought everything back to the surface that she had kept hidden and buried within her heart, and she had been so afraid. Scared of her own hope. It had become painfully strong again, and while she had struggled to keep the pieces of her decent and seemingly stable life together, part of her had secretly wished that everything could be as it had been before James had left for Africa. And that had been naive, she now realised. Like a child, she had closed her eyes to reality and insisted that the grown-ups fix things. The grown-ups in this scenario of course being James, which was frankly ridiculous.  
Even when she had taken matters in her own hands and stabbed Thorne to death, she had still fantasized about James guiding her. A fantasy it had been, she had only imagined hearing his voice. His reaction to her showing up at what was now his house alone had clearly shown her that he hadn‘t known about what she had done. Though of course he had guessed immediately.  
Ah, they knew each other. They had changed, both of them, and more than Zilpha wanted to recognize – but still, they knew each other, and they always would. She had tried to deny the strong bond between them, and now he was trying the same. Zilpha wouldn‘t have it.

There was no way she was finding her much needed sleep now anyway, so she might as well get up. She was going to visit James. He should share her sleepless night, at least. That much she felt he owed her. Everything else they would have to sort out over time, and she had no illusions about that being anything close to easy.. But James Delaney would finally have to face her eye to eye.  
After a moment of consideration, she put on her late husband‘s clothes. It just seemed sensible to her. Not every shady individual that might be on the streets at this godforsaken hour had to see from a mile away that she was a woman. And anyway, men‘s clothes were so much easier to put on on her own than the ornate layers of cloth she had been forced to get used to. A few quick stitches made sure the trousers wouldn‘t slip down to her ankles after a few steps – while no one would have called Mr Geary fat, his widow was a whole other league of skinny. Another thing that might change in the future, she mused as she tucked her hair under a hat she had once bought for Thorne and which he had never liked. In her husband‘s presence whatever kind of food she had tried had always tasted stale or even disgusting lately, but now she felt her appetite growing back.  
She threw on a dark grey jacket that should help make her less conspicuous, then she was ready to step out onto the street.

It was exciting to be out at this hour. Zilpha felt her heart racing, aware that she was putting herself in danger, but even more aware of how alive she felt.  
She decided that trying to stay in the shadows would only make her suspicious, not invisible. So she walked in the middle of the sidewalk, with what she hoped looked like a confident and not too female stride. When she reached the house she had grown up in, she had met a total of five people on the way, all of them obviously minding their own business (and three of them too drunk to notice anything anyway). Still, an uneasy feeling had started to build up in her chest, and she felt quite relieved when she finally reached the door on top of the stairs.  
However, the face that appeared on the other side of the glass after her persistent knocking did not belong to James, but to Brace. He did a half decent job of hiding his worry behind grumpiness as he let her in and told her he hadn‘t seen James all day. Odds were he was at the docks, he added, and probably immediately wished he hadn‘t. At her declaration that she would go and look for James there, Brace let out a theatrical sigh and painted the dangers awaiting her there in vivid colours (mostly red). In futile. Although she felt increasingly horrified at the thought of the docks, she was adamant on going there and rescuing James. For it was him that the bad feeling originated from, she was sure of that. No matter that she had told herself less than an hour ago that she would never blame her own thoughts and feelings on him so easily again – this was James in danger, no doubt about that. He wasn‘t even calling her for help (as if he would ever do such a thing), she just felt he needed her. And Zilpha, who had freed herself only days ago from her violent husband, committed her wellbeing, her life to an equally violent man who treated her like the dirt under his boots (while speaking of love). That was definitely something to reflect upon – later. For now she felt that if she didn‘t risk her own life recklessly, trying to save this man she loved despite everything, she might as well jump into the river immediately. Her life had felt so stale and meaningless recently – this was how she felt alive again. Her decision was clear. When Brace saw that he couldn‘t change her mind, he insisted that she at least take a jackknife with her. „Keep it in your hand“, he told her, „you won‘t have the time to draw it. Just pull your sleeve over it to hide it.“

She left him cursing the „bloody stubborn Delaneys, unable to listen to reason, the lot of them“. Not long ago, she would have pointed out that her name was in fact Geary. Those times already felt like a past life she had cut all ties to.  
The closer she got to the docks, the more she questioned her decision. The area would have been unfamiliar and frightening even in broad daylight, now her fear was half strangling her, and it took her a great effort to keep on walking steadily. She felt as if she was being watched, as if any moment now a dark figure would leap out of the shadows and slit her throat. How unbelievably stupid of her to come here. To help James of all people, who had survived dangers she couldn‘t even imagine, and certainly killed more people than she wanted to know. Whereas she wasn‘t sure the knife Brace had given her wouldn‘t be taken and used against her by an attacker. And anyway, how was she supposed to find James in a place she had never been before? If he even was at the docks, there was no certainty about that either.  
But here she was, and there was no way she was going back now. She felt that she wanted to live, though, had never been more certain of that than now that she was putting her life on the line like this.  
Here, by the river, there were people lurking around even at this time of night. Some of them drunk and scarily loud, some of them cautious and even more scarily quiet.

Suddenly someone grabbed for her arm, slurring something unintelligible. She shrieked, jerked her arm away and fled in panic. Luckily, the man seemed to be too drunk to follow her. At least there was no sign of him when she finally dared to stop and took cover in the muck under a turned over boat hull, panting. There was no way anyone who had heard her could mistake her for a man now, she realised. Her whole body was shaking violently. Whether it was all her own fear, or if she still picked up on James being in danger, she couldn‘t have told. It didn‘t matter anyway. Panic was holding her in a tight grip, and all she could do was cower in the mud and wait for the moment she could breathe properly again. Moving was out of the question anyway.

After what felt like half a lifetime she had finally calmed down enough to take in her surroundings. This area was even darker than the part of the docks she had passed before. There were only a couple of lights along the wooden piers and a few more shining from the other side of the river. That was why she nearly missed the two hunched figures as her eyes slowly scanned the riverbank. She took her time observing them. They didn‘t move. Obviously two drunkards, sleeping huddled together against the cold.  
Then one of them shifted a little and let out a grunt. Zilpha froze. She had found James. There was no mistaking his sleepy groan for anyone else‘s.  
So she had come here in the middle of the night, risking her life, just to find her darling brother drunk out of his mind, cuddling with a whore on the riverbank. Anger flared up inside her, but it was mostly directed towards herself. It wasn‘t as if James had actually called for her help, had he? She had just misinterpreted the voices in her own head for something that was coming from the outside. Again. She was growing insane, she had to face this reality.  
But she was going to wake James, he was even more reckless than her, falling asleep out in the open with all the enemies he got.

Just as she crawled out of her shelter to walk over to the two sleepers, she noticed a movement on the river. A small boat had come close without her seeing or even hearing it, and came to a halt just below the place where James and the smaller person lay. There was only one person in it, who was now tieing the vessel up with a practised hand.  
Zilpha gasped for air, as her heart sped up as if it was to burst out of her chest. This was why she had come here. This was her moment to act. To save her brother.  
Frantically, she scanned her surroundings. There was a pile of boards that had once been a boat a few steps to her right and a bit closer to the water. She hurried over there as silently as possible and ducked in the shadow for the length of a breath. From here on she had to go without any shelter, but at least she was behind the back of the figure that had now left the boat and was nearing the pair on the shore in quick strides. All but running, Zilpha gave chase. The soft ground muffled her steps, and so she got close to the person in front of her in no time, close enough to attack, to kill again without a second thought.


	2. Chapter 2

She would never know what gave her away in the last second – if it was the sound of her breath or of her step, her body warmth, or maybe an unexplicable instinct that made the man turn and face her just as she was raising her knife to stab him.  
She had no chance. He blocked her arm so fast and forcefully that her knife fell out of her hand and into the mud before it had so much as grazed his skin. His other hand grabbed her throat. She had only a split of a second to scream until his grip made any sound or even breathing impossible. Frozen with fear, she stared into his eyes and saw in them how he briefly considered keeping her alive to question her. And she saw the exact moment when he decided that no, he didn‘t have time for that and raised his own knife to finish her off.  
She wouldn‘t have had a chance. If it hadn‘t been for a small pair of hands grabbing the man from behind and slitting his throat in one smooth movement. She stumbled backwards with her eyes wide open in horror, away from the blood spraying from the man‘s neck and drenching her within moments. So much blood.  
The slumping body opened the view to her saviour: the girl that had been fast asleep by James‘ side mere seconds ago. Zilpha stared at her, unable to move, unable to speak.  
And the girl stared at her. Her thoughts seemed to be slowly catching up with what she had just done, if Zilpha read her facial expression right. But the shock and horror showing in her features were paired with an oddly calm curiosity towards Zilpha and, more prominent, triumph.  
Zilpha shuddered. The girl couldn‘t be older than fourteen at most. Yet there was a fierce determination in her eyes that belied her childlike features. Maybe this was the first time she had killed, but there was a good chance it wouldn‘t be the last.  
„We saved each other“, the girl said in a quiet, dreamy voice, „if it hadn‘t been for you, I would be dead, and if it hadn‘t been for me, you would be dead. We‘re linked together now.“  
She gave a small smile, then she crouched down to search the dead man‘s pockets.  
Zilpha stared at the scene, trying to collect her thoughts. „When you woke up to that man and me fighting,“ she asked slowly, „how did you know which one of us was your enemy?“  
„I know you,“ the girl answered without looking up, „you‘re his sister. I saw you going to his house in the night.“  
‚The night I killed Thorne‘, Zilpha thought with horror, ‚She knows.‘  
But that thought immediately took a back seat when she realised what the girl was doing now: Though her hair was obstructing the view, there was no doubt she was biting the dead man‘s neck. Zilpha stumbled a few steps away and vomited. Which was a blessing in a way, because that‘s how she saw a faint glint on the ground and found her knife again. It had been flung further away than she would have thought. She folded and pocketed it. At least it couldn‘t do any harm that way, seeing that it wasn‘t any help to her either.

When she dared to look up again, the girl stood upright and gave the dead body a pensive look, absentmindedly wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Then she turned her head towards Zilpha, her chin still dark with remnants of blood.  
„I‘m still no wolf“, she said, a suggestion of regret in her monotone voice. „We have to get away from here now“, she continued in a more matter-of-fact tone. „Perhaps he has friends. Will you help me get James out of here?“  
Zilpha swallowed hard and nodded tersely. She went over to her brother who hadn‘t shown any sign of life the whole time. When she heard the girl make a weird sound, half bark, half howl, she only flinched a little and didn‘t even look. Maybe her strange companion was turning into a wolf after all. This couldn‘t be anything but a nightmare, but for now, she couldn‘t pay attention to all the weirdness, she had one mission: to take care of James.  
Which turned out to be hard enough. He showed no reaction but a low grunt to her calling his name, touching his arm, then shaking it. Well then. She raised her arm and struck a firm blow to his face.  
She giggled at her own thought ‚I should have done this years ago‘. Once she had started, she just couldn‘t stop the laughter bubbling up her throat. So that was it. She was finally going off her head completely.  
Her next blow to his face was quite weak, as she was still laughing uncontrollably. Still, James opened his eyes the very moment the girl grabbed Zilpha‘s arm, pleading her to calm down.  
„Ah, i‘s you“, James slurred, „di‘ you ge‘ me a ship? I need a ship.“ His head lolled to the side and he almost fell asleep again instantly. But the girl rushed to his side, shook his arm and talked at him urgently: „We need to get away from here, James, now. Please try and get up, people want to kill you!“  
The answer was a maddeningly indifferent sounding grunt. Then James‘ eyes tried to focus on something behind them in the dark. Zilpha‘s giddiness vanished as quickly as it had come over her. She whirled around, even as James chuckled: „He wansso kill me, righ‘?“  
To her relief, there was only a small boy standing a few feet away and looking at them, wide-eyed.  
„There you are“, the girl greeted him with obvious relief. „Run and get Atticus here, we need him to take the body away.“  
So the weird noise she had made earlier had been a call to her little companion, Zilpha realised.  
The boy shook his head wildly. „Not Atticus, Winter, he‘s scary! I won‘t go to him, you can‘t make me!“  
„We need him!“ the girl insisted, but then changed her mind. „Right. Then go get Mo and Fiona, just be careful that Helga doesn‘t notice.“  
„I‘ll get them“, the boy promised, sounding relieved, and already started to run off again.  
„We‘ll meet at James‘ office afterwards“, the girl told him hastily, before he disappeared into the night once again.

It was a small miracle that Zilpha and the girl – Winter – managed to pull James up and drag him all the way to his office.  
This was the only part of the docks Zilpha had ever been to. Her father hadn‘t wanted her to come here, but he hadn‘t been able to keep her from following him and James once or twice when she had been a boisterous child of about six or seven. After James had been sent off to become a soldier, she had avoided her father as much as possible and not come back here again.  
Her memories of the area were quite vague, and she didn‘t recognize her surroundings until they arrived at the large metal door.  
By then, she felt as if her back was going to break in half any second. God, James was heavy. Zilpha didn‘t even blink as he slumped down beside her, let alone try and stop him. Maybe she would never be able to move again. She didn‘t care anymore. If only the pain would go away.  
But Winter cared. She cursed and hissed and poked at the apathetic man on the ground: „Move, James, get up! We‘re not safe yet!“  
Then she seemed to change her mind, straightened her back and produced something small from her pockets. Zilpha highly doubted that the girl would have a key for this door, but whatever it was that Winter used on the lock, it worked.  
She opened the door within seconds, and Zilpha wondered for a moment if she admired the girl‘s skills or if she was rather worried about how little resistance a heavy door like this offered, thinking of the door to her own house.  
But there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely getting James to make the last few steps into (momentary) safety.

In the end, he crawled over the threshold and collapsed right behind it, already snoring again as his head hit the ground with a painful sounding thud. Zilpha didn‘t pity him at all and was more than happy to leave him lying there as she stumbled further into the building to find somewhere to lie down herself. Winter however immediately produced a pillow and a blanket from somewhere and set to making the hard ground a bit more comfortable for the drunken man.  
Looking back at the two, Zilpha was taken aback by the tenderness the hard-bitten girl suddenly showed.  
„Don‘t you drag her down with you as well, James“ she thought with a sudden fury. She felt the bile rising in her throat at the thought that her brother probably fucked this girl that was still little more than a child, despite her weary soldier‘s eyes and her skilled killer‘s hands.

Zilpha startled when a small hand touched her shoulder. It took her a moment or two to remember where she was. She had fallen asleep, coiled up in a corner like a cat. For the blanket covering her shivering body she probably had to thank Winter, who was now cowering next to her and whispering urgently. „You have to get up, go back before anyone notices you were away! I‘ll walk you home.“  
That sounded quite sensible, Zilpha had to admit. Still, she had to fight a defiant voice inside herself that said „So she sends me away like everyone would. She‘s sending me home, but that house is not my home anymore. Still I have to return there, over and over again. Just so people get rid of me.“  
She shook her head to shoo the voice away and looked around the room. The dim light of a lantern on the ground was just enough to see the outlines of one small and two bigger people lying a few feet away. The little boy and the people who had taken care of the body, Zilpha assumed. „ ,The body‘. Look at you,“ she thought to herself, „all hard-boiled and unaffected. How the hell did you end up here?“  
But there was no time to engross these thoughts. She got up slowly. There didn‘t seem to be a single muscle in her body that wasn‘t aching. As the blanket slipped from her shoulders, she realised with a gasp that her upper half was clad in nothing more than an undershirt. Winter caught her shocked look and explained: „Your shirt and jacket are soaking in a bowl. No chance of getting the blood out if we had let it dry.“  
„Better just burn the clothes“ Zilpha mumbled and earned a snort. „Burn them? Do you think any of us here can afford burning our clothes every time we get blood on them? Anyway – for now you can put this on.“  
Zilpha ignored the sting she felt at the implication of her not belonging in Winter‘s world (Why on earth would she even want to belong with whores, thieves and murderers? Oh yes, she was a murderer herself ...) and took the shirt the girl was holding out to her. It looked very much like it belonged to James, and she could have wrapped it twice around her chest.  
She looked over where she had last seen her brother. He was still lying there in his mud-encrusted coat, fast asleep and slightly driveling on the pillow Winter had slipped under his head.  
„He won‘t mind you taking his spare shirt,“ the girl said softly, having followed her gaze. „I‘m sure he won‘t,“ Zilpha thought, „It‘s not like he would see a need to change his own shirt, as it‘s only drenched in sweat, mud and rum, and not blood. I‘m surprised he even has a spare shirt here.“ But of course she kept the thought to herself.  
As she slipped the shirt over her head she had to close her eyes for a moment. The garment smelled unmistakably of James, and suddenly a flood of emotions threatened to swipe her of her feet. But she had no time for this now, so she straightened her back and forced a smile on her face as she turned towards Winter. „Ready.“

Hours later, Zilpha was lying in her bathtub, enjoying the warmth soothing her sore muscles, and thinking about the night before. She was astonished to find that she was quite ready to just accept all the weird and frightening things that had happened and look forward. Because all of a sudden there was a lot to look forward to.  
She and Winter had walked back from the docks hurriedly, due to the cold as much as the short time. Still, the walk had been long enough to talk about a few things. The girl had told her that she had hoped to go to America with James, but now his ship had been destroyed. (Which might explain the state he was currently in.) Also, Zilpha had been relieved to find she had been wrong about Winter‘s relationship to James. She had surprised herself with the thought that she liked the strange girl. Usually, it took her a long time to warm to a person – if she ended up liking them at all. With Winter, it was different.  
So, as it had turned out that the girl was adamant about the bond they now shared according to her, Zilpha had felt the first honest smile in ages grow on her face. They had puzzled out plans for secret meetings, and Winter had insisted on teaching Zilpha how to fight. Surprisingly, Winter was keen on learning embroidery in return. (Not reading, thank you, she could read just fine.)  
Zilpha stretched and got out of the now only lukewarm water. There was still a lot to think about, her relationship to James being only one item on a long list. And not in first place.  
She had known for a while that she would have to leave this place sometime. Now the time was getting close. She had to plan every last detail carefully. And while she felt a newfound energy bubbling inside her, she knew that she still needed all the help she could get.  
She rang a little bell. For now, she even needed help to get dressed.

Still cursing the current fashion for women of her standing, she set to writing a letter soon afterwards. There was an old friend of hers, Sybille, whom she hadn‘t seen in years, since Thorne had been hostile towards his wife‘s friend and prohibited their association. She hoped to be able to renew their friendship – and that Sybille could help her sell the house without drawing attention to the wrong people. She needed a ship.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave kudos or even a comment. You would make me very happy.  
> Also, English isn't my first language, and I'm always thankful for corrections.


End file.
